Within Reach (24 page)

He loved her. The only wonder was that it had taken him this
long to recognize it.

A part of him wanted to deny it, to minimize the crime he’d
committed against Billie’s memory. But it didn’t feel like a crime. It
felt…real. And important. And precious.

No one knew better than he how valuable love was. How fleeting
and priceless and vital. He hadn’t set out to love Angie, just as she hadn’t set
out to love him, but it had happened and it was good and he wanted it. So
badly.

He rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest, knowing now
what he needed to do. Understanding—finally—what the ache in his chest was
about.

He went to bed, and the next morning he woke and went next door
to beg a favor of Mrs Linton. She agreed readily, kind woman that she was, and
he handed Charlie over into her care before dropping Eva at school.

He drove to the florist, the one that Billie had always
favored, and bought a bright, colorful bouquet. Then he pointed the car east.
The morning sun was harsh in his eyes by the time he parked and made his way
along the driveway toward Billie’s grave.

The lawn had been recently mowed and the smell of fresh-cut
grass hung heavily in the air. He climbed the slope, his steps slowing as he
approached the marble headstone.

The ever-present ache in his chest intensified as he knelt and
set the colorful bouquet on the grass. He closed his eyes, remembering the first
day he’d met her, the way she’d smiled cheekily when she’d mixed up his lunch
order. He remembered how her hand had trembled in his when she’d said her vows
on their wedding day, and the way she’d nearly crushed his fingers when she was
giving birth to Charlie. He concentrated very hard, until he had a clear picture
of her in his mind.

Then he said his goodbye, and he let her go.

Because he’d lost too much already. He wasn’t going to lose
again, not if he had any say in it.

After a long moment he opened his eyes and looked up at the
sky. Not a cloud in sight. He took a deep breath. The ache was gone.

He’d lived with his grief for long enough now to know that it
would always be with him. A scent on the wind, a phrase someone said, the sound
of his daughter’s laughter from a distant room—Billie would always be a part of
his life. And he wouldn’t want it any other way. He would always love her. But
he would not live his life for her.

He couldn’t. He had two children who needed him. And he had
Angie. Amazing, miraculous, generous, gentle, incredibly lovable Angie.

His knees were sore by the time he pushed himself to his feet
and walked away from Billie’s grave. He headed for Collingwood and Angie’s new
studio, impatience and fear growing within him in equal measure as he wrestled
with the traffic and his own doubts.

What if he’d made it too hard? What if Angie had changed her
mind? What if he’d hurt her too much, taken too long to come to his senses…?

And why
the hell
was there so much
damned traffic on the road?

Brow furrowed, he changed lanes and leaned on the
accelerator.

* * *

A
NGIE
SAT
BACK
ON
HER
heels and surveyed the shelves inside her sideboard. All her reference books
were out of order, but she didn’t have the heart for making everything perfect
today. Maybe in a few months’ time she’d put a day aside to set her new studio
up properly. Today, this week, she was all out of puff. Exhausted by loss and
regret and grief.

She stood and looked around the compact, industrial space.
She’d been spoiled at Michael’s—the quiet, the view, the calmness. This new
space was smaller and windowless apart from a thin aperture filled with
wire-embedded glass high on one wall.

But it was
her
space, and she
didn’t have to run the gauntlet of Michael and what could have been every time
she came to work. For that reason alone, she would embrace this new studio with
open arms.

The movers had set all the heavy pieces in their new places,
but she still had lots to set up before she could do anything constructive.
Dusting her hands on the seat of her jeans, she reached for the next box.

The scuff of a shoe on cement drew her gaze to the open door.
Her heart stuttered in her chest when she saw Michael standing there, his eyes
dark and serious as he filled the open doorway.

“Knock, knock.”

Angie swallowed noisily. “Hi.”

She’d had more than one fantasy over the past few days where
Michael had simply turned up like this at her home or work or yoga class or the
middle of the supermarket and told her all the things that she longed to hear.
That he loved her. That he wanted to be with her. That he didn’t want to imagine
his life without her. That all the guilt and problems didn’t matter when
measured against how he felt about her.

Stupid, childish fantasies. Self-destructive and pointless,
too. She’d known the score going in with Michael, and she knew the score now,
too.

She wiped her hands on the seat of her jeans again, just to
give herself something to do, and waited for Michael to explain why he was
here.

“Can I come in?” he asked, gesturing awkwardly.

“Of course.”

He entered the studio, his gaze taking in the white-painted
brick walls, the stacked cartons, the yet-to-be-arranged table and chairs. His
gaze returned to her, his eyes scanning her face with an unnerving intensity.
Her belly tensed. If he was here to talk about the other night again… She didn’t
know what she would do, but she didn’t want to go over it all again.

It was too painful, and she was still too raw.

“How are you?” he asked.

She made a vague gesture with her hand. “Okay. Good. The move
went smoothly.”

“So I see. But how are you?”

She took a deep breath. “Michael… I don’t want to talk about
us. If that’s what you’re here for. Not that there ever was an us. But you know
what I mean.”

He took a step forward. “There was an us, Angie. There still
is.”

Her heart stuttered again. Stupid heart, still hoping. She knew
better.

“I need some time, Michael. A few weeks, a month… I don’t know.
I need to forget a little.”

He moved closer, stopping next to the stump. He glanced down at
it, resting his fingers on the scarred wood.

“I went to see Billie today.”

He glanced at her and everything in her went very still. As
though her body knew something that she didn’t. There was something in his eyes….

“Did you?” She could barely get the words past the sudden
tightness her throat.

“Ever since you drove off on Friday night, I’ve had this pain
in my chest. Here.” He touched the area near his heart. “I thought it was
because I’d hurt you. Because I’d made you unhappy. It wasn’t until you moved
out last night that I got it. That’s why I went to see Billie today. To say
goodbye.”

She forgot to breathe. Michael closed the final feet between
them, taking her hand in his. She shook her head, almost afraid of what he might
say next.

“You don’t have to do this, Michael. You don’t have to make
this right. I’m not your responsibility.”

Because that was what this was. Michael trying to do the right
thing. Trying to fix things.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Angie,
I love you.”

She closed her eyes. “Please don’t do this.”

“Open your eyes, Angie.”

When she didn’t, she felt him move closer. A sob rose in her
throat. She’d dreamed of him saying those words and standing this close, even
though she knew it would never happen. Yet he was standing here.

“Open your eyes, Angie.”

She felt the brush of his lips on her cheek, on her eyelids, on
the tip of her nose. She clenched her hands at her sides, refusing to reach out.
Refusing to take what wasn’t hers.

His mouth brushed her lips. “I love you, Angie.”

“No, you don’t. You feel responsible. You don’t want me to be
unhappy.”

“You’re right. I feel all those things. And I love you.”

Finally she forced herself to open her eyes and meet his. “You
love Billie.”

It wasn’t an accusation.

“I do. I won’t lie to you, a part of me always will. But I
learned something these past few months, Angie. I learned that no matter how
much you hide from life, it comes looking for you anyway. I learned that even
when I thought I was dead inside, I could still look forward to seeing you and
hearing your voice. I learned that even though I thought I’d be happy being a
monk, I could still look at you and want you more than seems sane or safe.”

His hand slid into her hair, combing through the strands until
he was cupping the back of her skull in his palm. He tilted her head back, his
gaze holding hers, and she was utterly unable to look away from the light and
fire and depth in his eyes.

“I learned that it’s possible to love one woman while falling
in love with another. And I learned that I don’t want to give up on life, that I
want a future, and I want it to be with you, Angie, because I’ve discovered that
my life pretty much sucks without you in it.”

A small, worried frown pleated his brow and his hand tightened
on her skull.

“Don’t cry, Angie,” he said, his voice very low and ragged.
“Please don’t cry.”

Only then did she register the tears streaming down her face.
She wanted so much to believe what he was saying. So much.

“You love Billie,” she said again, because it was a truth that
was etched in her soul.

“I do. And so do you. And so do Eva and Charlie. And we always
will. We will never, ever forget her. But she’s gone, and we’re not. Maybe there
are people who will condemn us for snatching this chance at happiness, but I’m
not giving it up, Angie. I’m not giving you up, because I need to hear your
laughter and I need to make love to you and I need to be able to talk with you
and to hold you close and to watch you play with and love my children and—”

Angie rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his, the
movement so abrupt and forceful she felt the hardness of his teeth against her
lips, the smack of bone on bone as their noses and chins collided. She didn’t
back off, and neither did he, his hand clenching on the back of her head. She
kissed him with all the hope and desperation and sadness and gladness in her
soul. She gave him her all, because she wanted to believe, so badly.

And he gave her his all back, unreservedly, his body thrumming
with the intensity of his emotion, every muscle taut with need and sincerity and
urgency as he gathered her close, and suddenly the hope in her chest was
expanding and filling her chest and belly and throat and pelvis and she
believed.

She
believed.

Michael loved her. As she loved him. He wasn’t doing the right
thing or trying to fix things. He wanted what she wanted. He wanted
her
.

Even though she wanted to kiss him for the rest of her life,
she pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. He looked back at her, and
she wondered if she looked as dazed and blown away and giddy as he did.

“Okay,” she said a little breathlessly.

He smiled, the wonderful lines around his eyes and mouth
creasing into familiar patterns. “It’s going to be more than okay, Angie.”

She knew he was right, even though there were going to be
challenges and difficulties ahead. There would be raised eyebrows among some of
their friends and family. There would be judgment. There would be teething
problems with the children and between her and Michael.

None of it mattered. What mattered was that this man—this
beautiful, loving, loyal, sexy man—and his two children were going to be hers to
love and hold and protect and nurture.

Everything else was white noise. Dust. Insignificant.

Except for one last, very important thing.

“I want you to know that I will never begrudge you Billie.”
There was a quaver in her voice, because this meant so much to her. But it had
to be said. She
needed
for it to be said. “I will
never stop the children from talking about her. I will never not want to talk
about her or how you feel about her. She’s a part of me and a part of you and
she will always, always be with us. She’s not my rival, I don’t want to replace
her. I want to keep her alive as much as we can. For the children and for us.
It’s really important to me that you understand that.”

Michael’s eyes were suddenly swimming with tears. “Angie… God,
I love you.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. She wrapped her
arms around him and held him in turn.

Michael was right—they were going to be more than okay. They
had so much love on their side, and so much sadness behind them. They knew
exactly how valuable this was. How precious.

Smiling slowly, she cupped his jaw gently in both hands and
kissed him. It seemed her heart wasn’t so stupid, after all.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt of
Unraveling the Past
by Beth Andrews!

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